


All Is Full Of Love

by 3littleowls



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3littleowls/pseuds/3littleowls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond steps up to help Q through a rough situation, but like with many things in life, his actions are all about timing.</p><p>In case you missed it in the tags, this fic references domestic violence. If that triggers you, you may want to give this a pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beaubete](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaubete/gifts).



> It's only right that my first venture in the Skyfall fandom is gifted to my favorite writer. For my beta, friend and 00Q muse, Beaubete. 
> 
> Additional thanks to my betas Anarfea and Prudent_curiosity.

James opened the glass door and felt a soft pop of air pressure, as if the geeks in Q-Branch were hermetically sealed in their lair. He was pretty sure none of them ever left the basement of Six and saw the sunshine, so perhaps it was some mechanism to protect them from pathogens from the outside world. It wasn’t very far-fetched. Who really knew what they all tinkered with down here?

James walked through the sea of technicians in R&D. They parted out of his way as he passed, making him feel a little like Moses. A man in a lab coat carrying a spear gun nearly tripped over himself to scurry out of his way. _A spear gun?_

Past the testing rooms, assembly benches and desks he could see the neat rows of adjustable-height workstations that made up the cyber division. Q’s office was against the back wall, with floor to ceiling glass walls so he could survey his domain. Bond could see the man himself circling inside his fishbowl. Good. He wanted to return what was left of his equipment, give Q the mobile they needed the data extracted from, and go the hell home and have a drink.

“Bond?” Tanner said through the earwig. “I know you swiped into Q-Branch…”

“I’m not in the field, Tanner,” James told him. “I might be getting the impression you're spying on me.”

“Well… we’re off the record. I’m just happy you’re still wired. Can you please do us all a favor? Can you not be an arsehole to Q for one debrief?”

“I’m never an arsehole to Q,” James replied dryly. “He just doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor.” He walked through the analysts behind their banks of monitors. More than one stopped in his or her work to stare at him with what...trepidation? What the hell had made the boffins so jumpy today?

“He’s...well...Q’s not himself. He’s sorting through some personal problems right now.”

James laughed ruefully and two of the techs glared at him. “Tanner, to hell with his problems. He’ll do his job, just like the rest of us.” James reached Q’s office. A row of green LED’s indicated his door was open and unlocked.

“He is, Bond. Just don’t say…”

Q turned when he heard the door open. “Navya, just leave the report…” Q trailed off and straightened his shoulders, as if he hadn’t already been holding them ramrod straight.

Q’s left eyelid was barely open, a dark purple bruise under the lens of his glasses. His lower lip had been split and was swollen, pink and angry. James knew it would most likely scar, fading eventually to a soft line in his rosy lip.

James’ poker face didn’t give anything away, but the silence lingered between them. Q held his gaze, daring him to say something, to make some kind of inane comment.

“Q. I’m here to check in my equipment.” 

Q’s cheek twitched but that was all. “Welcome back, Double-oh seven. I’ll find a tray and get you sorted.”

James noticed he slurred the b’s when he spoke. He hadn’t been in a pub brawl, he hadn’t been jumped on the street for his fancy mobile. He hadn’t even been injured in the line of duty. He would have had heard of it if something had happened to the Quartermaster.

_Personal problems._

James remembered meeting Q’s partner, Rich. Rich had stopped by with dinner late one night, when James and Q had been consulting with the mission team running Double-oh four. James had gone down to to the lobby with Q just to appease his curiosity. In the lift, Q had told James a little about Rich; he was in banking, trying to make his way up the company ladder. When the lift doors opened, Rich had been pacing, waiting, a tall, dark haired man in an off the peg suit. Rich had handed Q his dinner with a soft smile and they exchanged a few quiet words before Q had waved James over to introduce him.

James had disliked him. It hadn’t been the bad suit or the damp handshake, or the way Rich had tried to have a ridiculous stare-down battle with him. It was something tickling one of his innate senses, one of the intangible skills that had kept him alive. James had smiled a false smile as Rich gave Q a quick peck on the cheek while his eyes tracked Bond’s. The kiss wasn’t a sign of affection, but a claim on one’s property.

Now James had a very tangible reason to hate him.

Q put the tray down on his desk. James removed his earwig, watch, and handgun and placed them on the tray with metallic clicks.

Q checked the chamber on the Walther, examined the radio and the earwing. He picked up the watch with the small hidden camera. Q snorted when he saw the deep scratch across the crystal.

“From a knife fight,” bond explained.

Q hummed. 

“Sorry,” James said. Q tilted his head at him in surprise. James shrugged in indifference, but he was surprised at his own words, too.

“I suppose it served a purpose,” Q admitted. He took the tray and slotted it into a shelf. He didn’t say anything more, didn’t look at James, busying himself.

“Q, look, if you need…” James started.

The door opened. An agent walked in, nodded at James.

“Are you ready, Quartermaster?” The agent asked.

Q’s shoulders sagged before he turned to the agent. “Ten minutes, Mr Jones.”

Bond narrowed his eyes at Jones.

“I’m here to escort the Quartermaster to his temporary lodgings for the night,” Jones explained.

James huffed. “They have a junior field agent on security detail for the Quartermaster of MI6? Oh, no.”

“No?” Q and Jones both said in tandem.

“Call Tanner. I’ll take Q home.”


	2. Chapter 2

They were stuck in traffic. Not even James Bond could get through London quickly during rush hour. 

Q sat in the leather seat, battered face turned to peer at the glowing screen at his mobile. They hadn’t spoken much, not since Q had given him the address like he was a cab driver. There was a very large elephant in the backseat of his very small Aston Martin; Q didn’t want to discuss what had happened and James sure the hell didn’t know how to breach the subject. 

Rain pattered on the the windscreen, the city lights reflecting off wet pavement. James glanced over at Q. The mobile sat precariously in his loose fingers, his face tipped back, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. There were two round bruises on his pale, long throat. James had the sudden urge to shoot something.

He found that the address belonged to an unassuming building and parked the car in the visitors’ bay. 

“Q. We’re here.” Even though James said it quietly, Q startled awake, dropping his mobile and almost banging his head on the window. “Easy, easy.”

Q looked confused for a second and then seemed to remember himself.

“How much sleep have you had recently?” James asked, tiptoeing, very carefully.

“It’s not your concern, Double-oh seven,” Q reached for the door handle. “I can get to my flat from here. Thank you for the ride.”

James cocked an eyebrow at him. He turned off the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He heard Q loudly sigh as he opened his car door and stepped out into the rain. 

####

James made a face when Q shouldered open the door of his flat. It was one room with a small window in the galley kitchen. It had been furnished by rejects from uni kids with mismatched chairs, a daybed with faded linens and cheap torchiere lights.

“M really pulled out all the stops to find you secure housing,” James said blandly.

Q looked around and shrugged. “It’s a MI6 bolt hole. Inconspicuous, bland. Security by obscurity.”

James grunted and poked around the room as Q slid off his jacket. He peeked behind photo frames and felt underneath the edge of the coffee table. It was silent, the soft rustling of Q taking things from his bag and moving around the flat had stopped. James looked up to see that Q was watching him with his head cocked to the side.

“Considering the circumstances, do you really think I’m being bugged?” Q asked him. James noted his vagueness and careful avoidance of specifics.

James shrugged. “Never hurts to do a quick sweep.”

“Your risk assessment skills are under question,” Q snipped as he walked into the kitchenette and started to investigate the contents of the cupboards.

“They’ve kept me alive so far.” James conceded that Q had a point, however, and focused on the locks on the front door instead.

“I do think you’ve officially died more than once, so I wouldn’t be so fast to use that as justification.” Q grumbled and then added, “I really need to do some shopping- there’s nothing in. Your babysitting service doesn’t happen to include making a run to a Tesco, does it?”

James snorted. The lock was horrible, he could have picked it in about thirty seconds. He would have thought even a small bolt hole like this would have perimeter security better than this. 

He pulled out his mobile and texted Tanner. 

_Where’s the boyfriend?_

Q made a triumphant exclamation and pulled a pile of takeaway menus from out of a drawer.

_Still out there. We reported it, but not sure what good it will do. Q didn’t issue a complaint._

James stared at the back of the door thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure what that implied. Well, the more immediate problem first:

_Is there a more secure location available?_

_Not tonight._ Tanner replied. _Q said it was sufficient for the short term. Did something happen?_

“Q, I want to relocate you,” James said.

“What? How come?” Q replied. He straightened up and licked his lips. 

James saw the signs of nerves, and cursed himself for forgetting Q wasn’t exactly himself. He was used to him being cool-headed in extreme circumstances. He had relied on it in the field and bet his life on it.

“I don’t want a branch lead bunking in a shabby flat with a door someone could break down with a solid kick.”

Q huffed. “They don’t want a branch lead just staying at a hotel. This location has been checked, Bond.”

“For bedbugs? Come on, I’ll take you to mine until this gets sorted. I have a guest room and a security system. I also have a stocked pantry.”

“And a stocked bar,” Q snipped.

James flashed the faintest curl of a smile at signs of Q’s usual snark. “Indeed I do.”

“No thank you. It’s generous, but I really am fine here.”

“Are you even armed?”

Q scowled as if James had insulted his intelligence. “Of course I am.” Q lifted up a leg and set his foot on a dining room chair. He pulled up the cuff of his trousers to show him the standard issue Walther strapped to his ankle. James couldn’t help but to note the ugly argyle socks and the fine, long bones of his lower leg.

James met Q’s eyes. “Could you really use it, if you needed to?”

“My range scores are flawless!”

“That’s not what I meant, Q, and you know it,” James said softly.

Q blinked and looked away. He didn’t answer.

James really wasn’t trying to hurt him to score a point, but he didn’t want him to find out the truth the hard way. He wasn’t sure how dangerous Rich was and he was probably being over cautious. He couldn’t help it when he could see the shadow of bruises on Q’s downturned face. 

“How’s the Internet connection here?” James said, switching course.

Q looked back up at him. “Lousy.”

“I have broadband,” James suggested.

Q smiled. It was small and tentative, as if he were remembering how. “Sweet talker. Well, don’t tell M I’m not above accepting an occasional bribe. Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

Whoa,” Q said as he stood in the middle of James’ flat. He dropped his overstuffed shoulder bag to the floor with a faint thump as he turned his head and looked around. 

James had hired a designer to furnish it. She had chosen low sofas in brown with saffron throw cushions, an oblong glass table with silvery metal legs and an Eames chair in mocha leather. A flat panel television was hung on a rich, wood paneled accent wall and a slate gas fireplace finished off the space. 

“You didn’t think all of my salary went to whiskey and cars, did you?” James asked.

“Um, yes. Yes I did. Mid-century modern suits you.”

“I’m surprised you know what that is.”

Q tried to speak and yawned instead.

James activated the security system. He double checked that it was armed and Q inclined his head in approval- James wasn’t sure if it was on general principal or if Q was more concerned with his safety than he was letting on. 

“Your room is to the left. Do you need anything?” James didn’t have guests over very often, or at least not the ones that slept in the spare bed. He had a sudden flash of Q curled into a tight ball under the red duvet. He would be yards of limbs and milky skin, contrasted against the cherry linens. He dismissed that thought as soon as it came.

“No, I was able to pack a few days’ clothes before I left…” Q trailed off, swallowed, forgetting himself. He tightened his shoulders. “So, should I just hack the wifi?”

James walked into the kitchen and took a card off the refrigerator. “Or I can just give you the password.”

Q tsked. “No fun.” He took up his bag and headed into the bedroom.

####

Twenty minutes later, Q reappeared. He had changed into a pair of faded and frayed blue jeans and an oversized gray hooded sweatshirt that made him look even younger than his quirky office attire did. “Are you cooking?”

James smiled. “I can keep myself from starving. Sit down.”

Q looked impressed and sat while James brought him a plate.

“Dinner is served. A sopressata frittata.” 

“What is it?” Q asked as Jame set it down in front of him

“An omelet.”

James watched in amusement as Q scrolled through his smartphone with one hand and ate with the other. He bolted his meal down and stifled yawns when he wasn’t chewing. It was quite atrocious manners, but somehow it was endearing that he couldn’t tear himself away from his toys for a moment.

“Anything interesting?” James asked over his wine glass.

“Looking for a new flat,” Q said. He was trying to sound casual, but he squinted his eyes like he had a headache when he said it.

James set down his drink. The dancing around the obvious had passed into ridiculousness. “If you need to talk about it…”

Q’s mobile pinged. He scowled at it.

“That’s the alarm for when I need to take a pill. Do you have water?” Q asked with false brightness.

James fetched him a glass as Q pulled two drug bottles from the pocket in his hoodie. James recognized the scrip labels from Medical. Q must have relied on their discretion after the assault. 

Q took the glass from James and swallowed one pill with a nod of thanks. “Antibiotic for the injuries,” Q explained, quickly pocketing the script.

James had never been prescribed antibiotics for facial lacerations like Q’s. He wondered briefly if Q had more severe injuries he couldn’t see. A bite, maybe?

“Don’t you have to take the other?” James pointed to the untouched bottle still on the table.

Q shrugged. “I would rather not.”

James picked it up and read the label. “Sleeping pills. These will put you down until noon. They never give me the good ones.”

“I wonder why.”

James rolled a capsule out onto his palm. “Tanner told me you were off until late tomorrow. Get some rest. You look like the undead.”

“You flatterer. No wonder you pull all the ladies.” Q smiled, but his hands fidgeted on the side of the table, giving him away.

“Q.” James held the pill out to him.

“If I’m ‘out like the dead’ then I can’t...never mind. Don’t fuss; I’ll sleep eventually,” Q said through clenched teeth.

James sighed. Enough was really enough. “I can tell when someone is afraid and pretending not to be. Rest- you’re safe.”

Q looked like he was going to fight back, but James didn’t think he had the energy for it. He looked resentful, but then rubbed a hand through his hair.

“I must seem very foolish to you,” Q said quietly

“No.” 

Q reached into James’ hand and plucked out the pill and swallowed it dry. He kept his eyes focused on the woodgrain of the table. “Thank you for inviting me into your home. You didn’t have to do any of this, and I’ve been an arse, but I do appreciate it.”

James laid the tips of his fingers carefully on Q’s shoulder. He radiated a surprising amount of heat through his clothes. “No trouble. Now go- I’ll be up for a bit.”

“Keeping watch?” Q tilted his face up and Bond noticed for the first time his wide eyes where the color of a deep, springtime wood.

“Always, Quartermaster. Always.”


	4. Chapter 4

James heard Q shuffling around in the loo around ten the next morning. He had known that pill would lay the skinny man out for a half a day, so he had spent the time catching up on the world news. It never hurt to know where you might be sent off to shoot someone next. 

He had checked in with Tanner earlier. James had gotten an earful for moving Q to his flat, but he was always getting bitched out for something. If they wanted to get pedantic, James was off duty for at least three days after his mission, but no one seemed too bothered that he was bending that rule. He had a suspicion no one was exactly chomping at the bit to be assigned the uncomfortable duty of making sure Q wasn’t jumped by his boyfriend.

Q finally emerged, still looking a little sleepy-eyed. He wore the same sweatshirt and jeans as last night but he had showered, his curls clinging damply to his head. James felt a grin forming at the corner of his mouth as Q shuffled to the kitchen- he must not be a morning person.

“Tea?” Q asked hopefully.

“Cabinet to the right of the sink,” James’ smile widened as he watched Q bumble around his kitchen fixing his cuppa. He almost laughed out loud as the chief of Q-branch struggled with finding the switch on the electric kettle. James knew he should help his guest, but a groggy Q was a little cute. 

“Can I make you toast so you don’t burn down my flat?” James chuckled.

“Ha. Caffeine first, thank you.” Q poured the hot water into his mug without scalding himself and came over to sit at the table. James let him sit with his tea in peace and went back to scanning the headlines.

As Q’s mug drained and there were signs of high level thought behind his glasses, James closed the lid on his laptop.

“Q, I realize you don’t want to talk about what happened, but I need at least a situation summary if I’m going to stay assigned to you. Tanner was evasive and thought you should fill me in.” James kept his tone casual, as if he and Q were discussing any typical mission over their earwigs.

Q turned the handle of his mug back and forth, back and forth. He finally sighed. “Fine. That makes sense, I suppose. It happened two days ago. Rich and I had a row over a personal matter that escalated.” Q swallowed and paused, and James waited for him to continue. “Anyway, I packed a few things and went to medical. I spent the rest of the night there and the next at the bolt hole flat. That’s about it, realy.”

James tried to look encouraging. “Has he had any contact with you?”

“Yes. He came to Six the next day when I wouldn’t take his calls, but he was asked to leave from the lobby. He’s rung me a few times more. I do need to talk to him to arrange getting the rest of my things.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can get your staff to make arrangements,” James said.

“I will, for part of it, but he has my cat. I’m not sure he’s going to give him to me.” Q dropped his eyes. “He can keep everything else, I don’t care. I just want Pascal back.”

Q brushed the back of his fingers over his swollen lip. The only sound in the flat was the quiet hum of his refrigerator. Q didn’t look back up again.

“Do you think he’d going to follow you- come after you?” James asked quietly.

Q shrugged. “After I’ve moved out, when it’s clear that this time I won’t...well. I think he’ll leave me alone.”

James frowned. _This time_. He wasn’t surprised that this wasn't the first instance of abuse, but he was thankful that it seemed Q was going to make sure it was the last. 

Q’s mobile buzzed and Q snatched it. He silenced the alarm with a scowl and stood from the table. “Excuse me.” 

“Of course,” James said. He watched a solemn Q walk back towards the guest room.

####

James pulled the collar up over his worn, woolen peacoat as he crossed the street. He had just seen Rich leave his flat and walk down the street towards the Tube station. James had been waiting in a cafe across the street, watching for this opportunity since dropping Q off at work earlier that afternoon. He wouldn't need much time, he hoped. 

He picked up the empty box he had left near a planter earlier, and waited until he saw a man unlocking the door to go into the building. James made a show of struggling with his parcel and predictably, the man held the door open for him. James smiled and thanked the gentleman profusely. He could have forced the lock, but sometimes the old ways of breaking and entering were the best.

Rich and Q’s flat was on the ground floor at the very end of the hall. James pulled out what looked like a RFID card from his wallet and waved it over a black, square pad set into the wall near the door. A green light flashed, and he heard the lock pop with a click. Apparently, Q designed security wasn't even a match for Q designed cracking tools.

James turned on a small lamp in the foyer. Their flat was decorated simply, all in serene, muted colors and plush furniture. Signs of Q’s previous habitation were everywhere; a familiar cardigan draped over a chair, an earmarked book titled _Programing In Python The Easy Way!_ sat on a corner table along with some framed photos. One of which was of an older couple that, by their looks, must be Q’s parents. 

James didn’t linger and moved across the room. He opened the blinds, cracked open one floor to ceiling window and then slapped the outer screen with his palm to pop it out. It was a blatant cover job, but he didn’t think Rich was savvy enough to doubt it. If he pieced it together, he was more than welcome to come to James’ flat and do something about it. Then he’d have a neat and tidy excuse to shoot Rich in the kneecap.

Next, he went and opened the almost empty box and took out a container of cat treats. He shook it and called out to the room, “Pascal, come here.” He waited, shook the treats again and wondered if he was going to have start looking under furniture and extract the animal by force. This was more than a little ridiculous- a Double-oh committing a burglary for a pet. 

He shook the container and this time, a yellow tabby hopped up on the back of the sofa and meowed quietly. James picked him up and stuffed the indignant, wiggling cat inside the box. He popped the top on and just missed getting clawed for his trouble.

“Don’t piss on anything in my flat in retaliation and we’ll get along fine,” James told the box.

####

Q hadn’t said much in the car as James dutifully picked him up from the Office in the morning. Q had worked through the night decrypting the video and had stayed on to help with the analysis. He had apparently napped in his office and then kept his mandatory appointment that morning with psych. In many circumstances like Q’s he would have been assigned leave- an emotionally compromised department lead was dangerous- but apparently Q and M had come to an arrangement. James personally would have chosen to take the time off to drink himself into a stupor before being forced to deal with the Six shrinks. So if Q was in a mood, it was perfectly understandable and he let him be.

When they arrived at the flat, Q stood at the dining room table, methodically setting up his laptop. The morning light from the east facing windows warmed his skin and James noticed the swelling was going down around his black eye. James came closer and cupped Q’s chin to turn his face to have a better look.

He realized his impulsive mistake as soon as he made it. Q’s eyes snapped wide but he didn’t pull away from the gentle hand. James didn’t snatch his hand away- he had made the error and wasn’t going to jump back now and make it seem like a rejection. Q’s heartbeat thumped double-time through the thin and tender skin over his cartoidid. 

“It’s looking better,” James said casually, tilting Q’s head with the lightest pressure from his fingertips. Q’s eyes fluttered closed, long, thick lashes brushing the purple marks on his skin. James couldn’t breathe.

Q twitched, pulled away and looked down. James dropped his hand and stepped back, giving him room, sure it was a delayed stress reaction from unwelcome touch. 

Instead, Q gasped, “ _Pascal?_ ” and bent to pick up the cat twining around his legs. “Bond! What have you done?” 

James shrugged. “What have _I_ done? I’ve read stories about pets running off and finding their owners. It seems he’s found his way back to you.”

“Oh, and not only did he cross town, but he climbed up the fire escape to the to the top floor?” Q’s lips formed a straight, annoyed line. “You shouldn’t have done this. It’s only going to make things harder. Did you see him? Did you do anything to Rich?”

“No, no, Q. Calm down. I made it look like the cat ran off. He never saw me. I used your anonymous ID card and the security system won’t even log that I’ve been there, if he even looks at it.”

Q glared. “I better go and erase the CCTV footage too. Do me a favor and mind your own damn business, will you?” Q shifted the cat his arm and grabbed his laptop off the table before storming off to the guest room.

“You’re welcome,” Bond said to his retreating back.


	5. Chapter 5

Q sulked in the guest room the rest of the day after James had dared to liberate his cat. He thought a “thank you, Bond” might be in order instead of the cold shoulder. Of course, this was Q, who had been an arrogant little prick to him right out of the gate. Bond grinned, recalling how too-young Q drowning in his anorak had looked him in the eye, squared off and challenged him to some verbal sparring.

James took the opportunity to leave the flat and run some personal errands. It wasn’t something he was able to do often, or even desired to, but occasionally it was good to walk the streets of London and go to shops. It felt oddly like undercover work- James Bond the normal bloke who went to the post and picked up the dry cleaning. 

When he returned in the early evening, Q had come out of the bedroom and set up shop on the sofa. Printouts, notepaper and his moble were scattered on the floor near his feet. He was typing rapidly on his laptop with Pascal curled up against his thigh.

“Bond,” Q greeted him.

“Q.” 

Q seemed to have gotten over his snit, but didn’t offer an apology. James hadn’t been expecting one. 

James walked through to his bedroom and hung up his clothes. Through the walls he heard Q’s mobile ring and while he couldn’t make out Q’s words through the walls, his tone seemed excited. Curious, James walked back out to the main room. 

“...yes, thank you Frannie. Please call me back immediately if they accept the offer. Have a good evening.” Q disconnected the call and grinned. “Yes!”

“Good news?” James asked.

“I toured a flat in Hackney today. It’s an old textile factory that’s been retrofitted. I put an application in to let with an option to buy it later.”

“You went out alone?” James knitted his brows.

“Heel, Bond. I didn’t go anywhere, I took a virtual tour. The place is perfect and it’s unoccupied. If we can get the deal pushed through, I can be out from underfoot in no time. Here, let me show you the photos.”

James leaned over the back of the sofa as Q scrolled through several pictures of a spacious, bright flat with exposed brick walls and a distressed wooden floor. Q chattered on excitedly as he showed James the amenities, like unusually high capacity electrics. He seemed to be honestly looking forward to having his own space and was more animated than James had seen him in days, talking with his hands when he wasn’t pressing keys on his laptop. 

Q’s mobile rang again, and he pounced on it. “Hello? Did they accept?”  
Q’s face fell. He listened on the other end of the line for a moment. “You lost the cat? How did he get out?” Q clenched his jaw and stood, leaving his laptop on the sofa as he walked to his room and closed the door. 

James stared after him with cold eyes. He knew Rich would ring when the he discovered Pascal went missing, but he had hoped Q wouldn’t take the call. He wasn’t sure if Rich was calling Q to be responsible human being or to gloat like a bastard, but odds were good it was the later wrapped in the justification of the prior. Pascal stretched on the sofa and dug his claws into the cushions. James pushed him off and the cat stalked away indignantly after Q. 

James rolled his eyes and thought it was about time to start dinner whilst Q was on his call. He went into the kitchen and pulled down the pans from an overhead rack, and took out a container of fresh pasta and a pre-made sauce from the refrigerator. The lid on the sauce was stubborn, and when he finally pried it off, tomato splattered over his light blue shirt. Bond cursed. He had better get the shirt off and soak it before the stain set.

On his way to his bedroom, he passed Q’s door. James heard a distinct, but soft sniffle. He hadn’t latched the door all the way closed for the cat. James hesitated. He knew Q was struggling to maintain some privacy with the evidence of what had happened marked him so publicly. He wouldn’t welcome the intrusion.

A sharp, pained gasp did him in. He couldn’t stand outside Q’s door and let him suffer in isolation. He knew what that was like well enough.

Q blinked watery eyes up at him as James quietly opened the door. Q was sitting on the bed petting the cat, his glasses and his mobile both left on the bedside table. Q didn’t say a word as James sat next to him, just ran his fingertips through Pascal’s thick fur until he purred.

“I told Rich I had probably found a flat and that I would be getting my things soon,” Q finally said, not looking back up at James.

“I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

Q shook his head. “No.”

James settled his hand on Q’s shoulder. He was trembling. Not strongly, but light shivers that quaked his lean frame. “Don’t talk to him anymore, Q. Block his number and let someone else get your things.”

Q nodded and chewed on his lower lip. He peered up at James. “You must think I’m a fool.”

“I don’t.” He meant it. 

“He was kind to me once, you know. It was only later that he…” Q’s eyes hardened and flashed with anger. “No, I was an idiot. I should have left when it was apparent I was just a warm body to fuck and someone to make him breakfast.”

James winced. 

“I stayed because I thought we could make it better, if only I had…” Q made a fist and punched the bed. Pascal, startled, streaked away and hid under the bed. 

“You trusted someone and they broke that faith. It wasn’t your fault, whatever happened, you didn’t deserve this.” James had seen his share of domestic abuse plying his trade. Arms dealers, terrorists and warlords didn’t often treat their lovers well. 

“Broke faith?” Q laughed bitterly. “You have no fucking idea.”

James rubbed small circles on Q’s shoulder. He was thrumming under his hand and felt like he was on the verge of popping at the seams. “Tell me, then.”

Q shook his head.

James sat quietly and didn’t press. There was a common misconception that his main talents of his trade were fucking and not dying. While a strong case could be made for either skill, James was a master at reading people. It’s how he could play cards, tell friend from foe and know how far he could push his superiors. Q wanted to tell him. No, he _needed_ to tell someone before he had a nervous breakdown. If James pushed too much, Q’s stubborn streak would rear it’s ugly head and he would close up. All he had to do was give him some room and a safe place. 

He wanted to give that to Q. He wanted to be his confidant. Someone the too-clever-for-his-own-good smartass could truly rely on. James was struck by just how badly he wanted that. Q had pulled his griddle out of the fire enough times for James to want to help him, sure, but this was something beyond…

“He was cheating on me. I was pretty sure of it months ago,” Q said quietly. “Late nights without coming home, mysterious phone calls and secretive text messages. I asked him about it and he denied it.”

“So you went snooping,” James said. He was sure Q couldn’t have resisted it. Now many people in their line of work could.

Q nodded. “I’m not very proud of that. Rich isn’t a techie, but he knew what I was capable of. He wasn’t dumb enough to exchange emails and voicemails that were clearly damning. I did look at his phone logs and saw several repeatedly called numbers, however. I asked him about them, and he called me a spy. Fair enough.” Q sighed. “He was angry and denied everything. Pushed me around a little, but nothing like this time. I felt guilty for violating his privacy so I gave him a pass, gave him the benefit of the doubt.”

“He manipulated you,” James said, grinding his teeth. 

“I said I was a fucking idiot,” Q snapped. “I knew that if someone roughs you up once, that they often keep doing so. I thought Rich would be the exception.” Q wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“He was sleeping around,” James surmised.

“Of course he was. Later I caught him with undeniable scientific proof!” Q stopped and looked at the wetness on his hand as if surprised by it. “Shit,” he said softly before another one of the agonized, heart wrenching whines escaped. Unable to hold them back any longer, tears started to track freely down Q’s cheeks.

“Scientific proof? DNA?” James slid his hand across Q’d back so his arm was draped over his shoulders. Q melted against his side like warm honey on a hot day, as if he was starved for simple contact. 

“No,” Q sniffled. “Sorry, sorry.”

Bond squeezed him gently. “Shhh. I’ve seen lesser men than you weep and stronger ones, too. So what did you find?”

“He...oh hell. He got me sick. That’s how I knew,” Q blushed and buried his face into James’ shoulder.

James growled. Now he was was considering hunting down the fuck and tearing his balls off. “How sick?”

“Nothing the antibiotics won’t cure. I was always so careful, I swear. We didn’t use protection anymore because we weren't supposed to sleeping around. I…”

“Christ.” James shifted so Q would have to look at him. “This wasn’t your fault and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Do you hear me?”

Q shook his head.

James huffed. “Do you really think you’re the only one that’s been to medical for a shot and a packet of pills? Think.”

Q’s eyes widened.

“Yes, me, you arse,” James pulled Q in for a embrace. Every inch where they touched was too warm from Q’s crying. “So you told him your diagnosis and then he hit you for it.”

“The worst thing is that knew he had caught it, but didn’t want to admit he had been out shagging someone else.” Q leaned into his shoulder and wept, unable to keep talking. 

James held him gingerly, if he was a fragile, broken bird. A damaged thing that had somehow found sanctuary in the home of a double-oh. Q, clever, sassy and brave Q, had shown James Bond his wounded heart, of all the broken people in London he could have shared this with. 

James ducked his head and pressed his lips on Q’s temple fondly. Q turned his sorrowful eyes up at him and James kissed him- soothing and tender. Q shuddered in his arms and and hesitantly reciprocated with a gentle press, butterfly-light with his cut mouth.

Q pulled back but not away. He studied James, stray tears still leaking from the corners of his eyes. “I can’t James. I just can’t.”

“I know, Ethan,” James said, his own throat tightening and heart heavy. Q sighed and rested back into his arms, and James gave him what comfort he could. A minute later, Q squirmed out of the embrace and James immediately felt bereft. 

Q wiped his blotchy face with his sleeve and put on his glasses. He looked at James, shy, and muttered dryly, “Well knock me over with a feather. I could have sworn you thought my name was really Quartermaster.”

James snorted. “I’ll make us some tea.”


	6. Chapter 6

James knew that his time as Q’s volunteer bodyguard was limited and he would be sent on assignment when his three days of rest were over. He also knew that Q would only tolerate being mollycoddled by the Office for so long; he would chafe at restrictions set on him any longer than absolutely necessary. So when James got the call that he was to be assigned for a mission to Somalia, he didn’t object.

As routine, he had reported to Q-branch for his kit after his briefing with M. Q waved him into his office with a curt “Double-oh seven” before shutting the door. He quirked a quick smile at James- the bruises on Q’s face were fading now to a dingy yellow. 

“Before I have you sign out your equipment, I wanted to thank you for letting me stay with you these past three days,” Q began. “I was going to tell you this evening-the security system in my flat is being installed and some furnishings delivered. I’ll be able to take residence as soon as tomorrow.”

“You were a undemanding guest, Q. I fly out at 18:00, but you are welcome to stay at mine until your new flat is ready. Have arrangements been made for your belongings?” James asked. 

Q nodded. “Villiers assigned one of the office staff to coordinate with Rich. Movers have been hired to pack, so I won’t have to go back there again,” Q closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “I think it will be over, then.”

“Agent Jillian Walkers will be escorting you for the next couple days, just to make sure you’re safe.”

Q rolled his eyes. He opened a desk drawer and took out a taser. “I can take care of myself. I wouldn’t hesitate to use this.”

James nodded. “Good man. If it comes to that, hit him a few extra times for me.”

Q chuckled and pulled a ballistic case from the second drawer and slid it across his desk to Bond. “For your mission though, I have something with more pop. Have you ever used incendiary rounds?” 

####

James came back from Somalia three weeks later, objective completed. He was then sent off to Brazil, which was just the start of a merry chase around the globe after his mark. After that, he went to America to work with the CIA to break a terror cell. The calendar turned and life working in the secret service went on.

Until it doesn’t, James thought, which was the assumption with men like him. He leaned back in his seat on the private jet and ordered a Scotch from the stewardess. She had stylishly short, dark hair and long lashes and was very attentive. She lingered when she brought him his second drink and James let his fingers brush over hers as she handed him the tumbler. He thoroughly enjoyed her lovely, lithe figure whilst she was riding him in his leather seat later in the flight.

####

When James walked into Q’s fishbowl office, Q was leaning over his desk poking at a metal chassis with a screwdriver, all lean lines and concentration. Q looked up and smiled at him, something new since they had become proper friends. Just then, it struck James that his stewardess had born a startling resemblance to Q. She could have been his sister, in fact. James smiled back to cover his realization. 

“Bond, welcome home. Are you returning your gear?” Q’s injuries had healed long ago and the only physical sign remaining was a pinprick of a scar on his lower lip. One had to look very closely to even see it.

“I am, Quartermaster.” James lifted a half-melted ballistics case and dropped it on Q’s desk. 

Q’s smile faded, as James figured it would. “Is my signal jammer in there?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of leaving behind valuable issued equipment,” James said innocently.

Q growled. “You are an annual-budget-breaking, circuit-board-frying, whoops-a-lizard-ate-my-gun menace.”

“I live to serve,” James grinned.

Q rolled his eyes so hard James thought they would stick. “Get out, Double-oh seven.”

James straightened his cuffs and turned towards the door.

“James, Moneypenny and I are going for drinks later, if you want to come. Especially if it increases the odds that you won’t set fire to London to celebrate your glorious return,” Q offered.

“It depends. Will they serve kids your age?” James asked.

“Ha. Ha. 17:00. Don’t let us keep you up late, grandfather.”

####

James rang the doorbell for the second time and Q opened the door to his flat.

Q squinted at him in confusion. “Bond? I thought you were in Japan?” He peeked down the hallway over James’s shoulder, as if he was expecting a pack of Yakuza to come running down the lobby.

“I’m back early,” James smiled. “Are you going to let me in?” 

Q tilted his head. “I’m not on duty tonight. If you want to check in, there are staff in the branch you can…”

“This is a social call, Ethan. I haven’t been in London more than three days at a time over the last four months. I haven't had a chance to see your new flat and I thought I should correct that- unless you’re busy?”

“Oh. No. I mean, I was just watching a film. Please, come in.” 

Q opened his door wide and waved James through. There was no foyer to speak of, it was one, large open room with rich brick walls and tall ceilings and windows. Everything was painted in stark white and the furniture in shades of ivory. At the far end of the single room there was a door which James assumed went to the toilet, and a ladder going up to a loft. James could see a soft blue light and the outline of bedding, and assumed this was Q’s bedroom.

“Nice place,” James said.

“I’d give you the tour, but it’s pretty much what you see on the tin. Can I get you a drink?” Q offered.

“No, thank you.” James wasn’t sure of the quality of the alcohol Q would have. Probably something sweet and trendy.

"Oh, I brought you something." James held out a candy pink gift bag adorned with sparkly ribbon.

Q lifted his eyebrows at the paper confection and took it cautiously. 

"Knock over a little girl's birthday do on the way?" Q asked.

"It's from Japan," James replied, as if that was an explanation. Really he knew the wrapping would get a rise out of Q, and James rather liked his predictable, sardonic little head tilt.

Q sighed and reached inside. He pulled out a pink collar with bright Hello Kitty graphics and a pink bell that chimed merrily. 

"I appreciate the thought, but it's not quite my color," Q said dryly.

James frowned. "Don't be ridiculous-it's for Pascal. I'd put you in green leather of course, maybe with brass hardware."

"Cheeky." They both maintained their poker faces until Q gave in with a twitch of his lips, and they both broke character and chuckled.

"It's nice to see you, James," Q admitted. His skin had flushed with rosy color from laughter and his eyes were bright and untroubled. He was breathtaking and completely eclipsed the stand-in stewardess.

Q didn't move when James closed the distance and he gave Q plenty of time to duck away when he reached for him. He let his fingers drift over the stretched out collar of Q's tee shirt until he cupped the back of his neck, teasing the shorter hair at his nape. Q shivered and glanced at James' mouth and that was all the permission he needed.

Q's lips tasted like lip balm and a hint of tea. He kissed sweetly, almost coyly but the rasp of stubble denied any entertainment that it was maidenly. A bold but quick flick of the tip of Q's tongue on James' lower lip hinted that there was a lot more to discover under the surface in fascinating, hidden depths.

James slid his other hand to curl around a slim hip and it broke the spell. Q slipped away and covered his lips with his fingertips like he was startled at what he had done.

"I'm not," Q stammered.

James shook his head, not understanding. Q fiddled with the gaudy gift bag and when he realized he was doing it, stopped himself and walked to a glass end table and set it down. James allowed him the moment to collect himself.

"I'm not seeing anyone right now. No one, especially not you." Q winced. "I mean, I don't want you to get the impression that you swooped in and rescued me from Rich."

James started to protest, and Q silenced him with a wave of a hand.

"It's what you do though, right? Fly around the world saving maidens in distress. It's in your bones. I can't James. I can't be that to you. I certainly have to make sure I'm not suffering from hero worship or something." Q stopped to breathe.

James took a short step closer, but didn't reach out again. "I never rescued you. I was there to help, as a friend should. You saved yourself. You did it all on your own strength."

Q blinked at James and finally gave him a slow, sad smile. "Thank you for that."

"It's true. As far as misplaced gratitude on your end, I'm really not concerned you'd slip like that."

Q huffed, then chuckled. "Check in your kit entire and in working order and maybe I'll be more appreciative."

"How appreciative?" James asked. "Because every last thing from my past mission is already signed over."

"What? No!" Q dramatically clutched his shirt over his heart.

"Let me take you to dinner so you can shower me with praises," James said.

Q stopped being silly and narrowed his eyes at him. Q shook his head. "I meant what I said about the dating. I'm not ready yet and frankly, I'm enjoying the time to myself right now. Getting myself in order, if you will."

James nodded. "I understand. You still eat and go out with friends, though."

Q looked relieved. "I do. Especially ones that don't break their tech. Curry okay?"

"Fantastic."

Q narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at James' accusingly. "None of your seduction tricks, Bond. When I'm ready to see you, if I ever am, I'll tell you." Q smiled impishly, "but If you behave, I have, on occasion let some of my friends kiss me at my door."

James nodded, feeling a soft hope flutter in his chest. "Get your coat."

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a Death Cab for Cutie song:  
>  _  
> You'll be given love  
>  You have to trust it,  
> Maybe not from the sources  
> you have poured yours,  
> maybe not from the directions  
> you are staring at  
> _


End file.
